A/N: Hello, all. This is the second chapter. For everyone who read this before, thank you. Thank you for your patience and for your feedback. The feedback I got on this story is the reason I am coming back to this story. Also, if you read this before, please go back and read the first chapter. There are significant changes. I'm rewriting this for editing reasons and to fit the cannon timeline better. I'm using the timeline from Brotherhood this time around.

The title of this chapter comes from one of Aesop's fables. It is about a mouse who, when spared by a lion, later rescues the lion from hunters.

A/N 2: I forgot the first chunk of this when I posted it the first time. My apologies for the screw up.

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and Stray Dog belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I am not making a profit by writing this.

Warnings: None really for this chapter.

"Hawkeye! That's enough!" Mustang said sharply as the lieutenant leveled her gun to shoot the creature again. The woman's expression remained blank as she lowered her weapon but not her guard.

Around them most of the other activity carried on as though nothing had happened. The threat had been eliminated and they couldn't risk a botched raid simply because something interesting had turned up. The soldier who wandered up behind Hawkeye with a cigarette dangling from his lips, however, seemed to think otherwise.

"What is that?" the man inquired, pointing at the still being on the floor.

"Damnit, Havoc. How many times have I told you not to smoke on missions?" Mustang growled. He was in no mood to deal with the man's insolence right now.

"Sorry, Colonel." The man smiled sheepishly and looked around for a place to get rid of his cigarette. "But really, what is that? It's got automail."

Mustang turned his attention from his squad to the creature lying on the floor before him. Cautiously he knelt beside it, aware that it could just be feigning unconsciousness. Judging by the pool of blood that was forming around it, however, that seemed unlikely. They knew Heig had been making chimeras, but the automail threw him. He took in the feline ears and tail and the golden fur running town its back. The fur seemed thickest near the spine. But there was a long braid of golden hair that fell to one side. And as his gaze strayed from the blood matted fur, it moved to limbs that were far too human for his comfort. Pausing, he reached out and turned the creature over. He blanched at what he saw.

"Havoc, get a medic! Now!" he shouted to the soldier lingering idly behind the lieutenant. His next few words were scarcely more than a whisper, so quiet only a wide eyed Hawkeye could hear them. "It's a child."

When the creature next woke, he was laying on clean, white sheets. There was a bandage around his left shoulder and upper arm that made movement difficult. He also noted that he was wearing some sort of loose, white garment. Quickly he checked himself over, closing one eye and then the other, twitching his ears back and forth, swishing his tail in a wide arm, and curling and uncurling his arms and legs. Everything seemed to be in working order.

The whole room was white, he noticed. It was also very small. There was a tiny window in the door. Cautiously he leapt from the bed, landing on all fours. His left arm, however, would not hold him and he narrowly missed crashing to the floor. Irritated, he stalked over to the window, raising himself up onto the balls of his feet to look out of it. He noted the wire mesh embedded in the thick glass.

The entire hallway was stark white. That unbroken blankness only served to make the woman standing across from the door even more noticeable in her royal blue uniform. At once he was overwhelmed with the enormity of his situation. Quietly he slunk back to the bed, curling up to think. Ears flattened against his skull, his tail curled over his eyes, he took advantage of the dark and the silence to evaluate his situation. He had failed the master. That left him with two possible outcomes. The first was that the master would kill him as soon as he was removed from this place. The second – and more likely – outcome was that the military would kill him. But if that was the case then at least he would take as many of them with him as he could. The only other possibility was escape, but that seemed unlikely.

The sound of a nurse at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He whipped his tail away from his face, lurching to his feet and baring his fangs at her. She took a startled step back at the display and the door snapped shut again as quickly as it had opened. Moving silently to the door, he watched as the frightened nurse said something to the woman in blue. The door was too thick for the creature to hear what was being said.

A few moments later, however, there was another disturbance at the door and the creature saw another figure in blue. This time when the door swung open he found himself face to face with the man he had tried to attack. He readied himself to strike – ears plastered to his skull, tail held out behind him for balance, fangs bared, hands held ready. From his fingers protruded cat-like claws where fingernails should have been, not retractable but just as sharp. The creature gave a low warning hiss, his golden eyes narrowing.

Despite all of this, the man at the door seemed unimpressed. He stared quietly, looking for strengths and weaknesses. When he was finished, he spoke calmly.

"I don't know if you can understand me, but let's make this clear right now. You try to attack me –" he snapped his fingers and a burst of flame appeared "– and I burn you to a crisp. Got it?"

The creature bristled and hissed softly, taking note of the symbol on the man's gloves. But he offered no threat, so the man continued to speak. "Good. First order of business, then. Can you talk?"

The creature eyed him suspiciously. He remembered the master's instructions never to speak to anyone. He opened his mouth anyway.

"Yes," he replied in a soft hiss, making sure that his fangs were clearly visible.

"Good," the man replied with a nod, seemingly unfazed by the display. "What's your name?"

All he got in answer was a narrow-eyed look of suspicion.

"What are you called?" the man tried again.

This time there was an answer, given in an emotionless monotone. "I am called Experimental Defense Prototype four zero one three."

The black haired man blinked and asked, "Do you have a name?"

This earned him an impatient glare from the creature. "I am called Experimental Defen–"

"But what do people call you?" the man interrupted.

The creature paused for a moment, as though searching for an answer. "The master calls me ED, for Experimental Defense."

"Ed," the man repeated contemplatively. "My name is Colonel Roy Mustang. I am a state alchemist for the Ametris military and I have been placed in charge of the case concerning Theodore Heig."

The fury that had begun to bleed away from Ed's expression came rushing back and he snarled, brandishing his claws.

"What have you done with the master?" he demanded.

"He is to stand trial for his crimes," Roy said calmly. "But I assure you, he has not been harmed. Although with the murder charges he faces, I can tell you he will most likely hang."

Ed was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to his clawed hands. For a long while he stood still, studying the cracked pads of his fingertips and palm. The sharp, golden eyes that reminded Roy painfully of Hawkeye's snapped up and focused themselves on him.

"What are you going to do with me?" the boy asked. He was completely calm as he spoke and it sent a chill down Mustang's spine. "Are you going to kill me now, or are you going to wait until after the master's death? Or are their tests you plan to run first? Experiments to try to figure out how the master made me?"

Roy froze for a moment before narrowing his dark eyes. "Unlike you master, it is against our principles to experiment on humans."

Ed froze at that, golden eyes wide. Human? But he wasn't. He was a chimera. The master had told him that if he was ever caught, the military would do terrible things to him. The reason, his master had said, was that chimeras like him were extremely rare. Usually they turned out horribly wrong and had to be killed for their own sakes. And the ones who did turn out as they should quickly became unstable and died. But he was different. Not only had he survived, but he was strong and stable – fully functional.

"What's wrong?" the uniformed man asked.

Ed's ears flattened back against his head. Blood dripped slowly from his left palm as his claws dug into it. He was preparing to free himself if necessary.

"You said you don't experiment on humans," he said slowly, his tension obvious in his voice. "But what about me? I'm not human."

"You're human enough," the man replied firmly. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, gentler this time. "How old are you, Ed?"

The boy thought for a moment, still wary of the man. "The master said I turned twelve this year."

Roy was still for a moment, attempting to fathom the idea that this creature who had seemed so bloodthirsty was a twelve year old child. Then another thought came to him. "You don't know your age?"

"The master said –" Ed began, but Roy cut him off.

"I want to know if you know your age," the colonel explained. "When were you born?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation before the boy answered. "I… I don't know."

"Where were you born?" Mustang asked.

"I don't know," the boy said again, very quietly. "I can't remember."

"What about your family?" Roy persisted.

"I don't know," the boy repeated, blood dripping faster from his hand as he clenched his fists.

"How long were you with Heig?" the colonel asked, unsure he wanted to know the answer.

Ed considered him cautiously. "About a year, I think."

Roy nodded. "And how long have you been –" he hesitated "– like this?"

Ed's ears flicked back again. His response was very quiet and he almost sad. "I don't know. I can't remember anything before the master except a bright flash of light and pain."

Roy frowned at that answer. "And the automail?"

"I've had it for as long as I can remember," Ed answered.

Again Roy nodded. When he moved from where he had been leaning against the wall, Ed tensed. But the strike he was anticipating didn't come. Instead the man spoke again. "I think that's enough for now. I know this is stressful, but try to rest. Hawkeye did a fair job of messing up your arm. It will heal completely, but you need to take care of it. So get some sleep."

With that Roy turned to leave. However, he paused with his hand on the door, turning to look back at Ed.

"What do you eat?" It was almost an afterthought.

Ed tilted his head and twitched his ears curiously.

"We do plan to feed you," Roy explained. "But we need to know what you eat. It's not every day we deal with a human chimera."

"Meat, mostly," Ed answered quietly. "Raw if possible."

A look of disgust flickered across the colonel's face, fading away as quickly as it had come. He nodded quietly and turned back to the little window in the door, signaling to the woman in the hall that he wanted to be let out. As he did so, Ed spoke up again. After all, they weren't going to kill him, so he may as well be useful while he waited for his opportunity to come.

"You have mice," Ed commented quietly, swiveling his ears back and forth as though listening to something Roy couldn't hear. "If you let me out I could catch them for you."

Roy almost smiled at that. Almost. "Not today, but I'll be sure to let someone know."

And with that he was gone, leaving Ed alone to wonder if what he was doing was right.